Beckham Makes Big Apple Debut

Aug. 20, 2007 — -- The sight of footballs crashing into lit barbecues and toppling stacked beer bottles is not uncommon in the Giants Stadium parking lot. The Meadowlands complex in New Jersey is host to at least 20 slobbering NFL pregame fiascoes every season.

But there was something different about the scene this past Saturday night. Truth be told, the footballs weren't footballs at all. They were soccer balls — round as Charlie Brown's head.

The carnival outside the gates carried over into the stadium, where, by 7:30 p.m., the New York debut of the man they call "Goldenballs" kicked off beneath the blinding flashes of a thousand amateur photographers.

David Beckham had arrived, in a sporting sense, and he brought with him a Major League Soccer record crowd of 66,237. That's about 55,237 more paid customers than Red Bull New York normally welcome.

Anticipation -- as Beckham's compatriots the indie rock act Arctic Monkeys taught us -- has a habit to set you up for disappointment in evening entertainment, but such would not be the case Saturday.

Red Bull took a lead in the fourth minute on a free kick from Colombian Juan Pablo Angel. The next two goals, in the sixth and eighth minutes, were set up by the right foot of the Los Angeles Galaxy's Beckham, who responded to the more contemptuous home supporters with a cheeky finger-to-mouth "shush" signal (and a smile, naturally.)

In what should be a most encouraging note for America's growing legion of soccer missionaries, those jeers grew louder each time Beckham set up for a free kick.

Passion and derision are the driving forces of the domestic sports market, and if the home fans care enough to boo Beckham, then MLS commissioner Don Garber should have reason to cheer. The drama only ebbed with the shrill of the referee's whistle for halftime.

Of the 22 players trotting off the field for the break, only three would be allowed into a European soccer stadium without a ticket. But, with the score by then 3-2 for New York, no one seemed to mind.

Beckham came off near last. His departure was less a trot than a lope, and it seemed to redeem him to even the saltiest corners of the crowd. There they were, cheering him like they did during the pregame, the past 45 minutes' transgressions forgotten.